


Caught in the Burning Glow

by maharieel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9394256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maharieel/pseuds/maharieel
Summary: Anders found himself watching Hawke more than he liked to openly admit.





	

Early dawn light sprayed across the mountaintop at Sundermount, yellows and oranges and pinks cascading over the rocks where Anders sat by the long-cold fire with a cup of tea cupped against his chest. For all its horrors (and there were a lot), Kirkwall did look somewhat peaceful in the distance shrouded in the morning light, although the ever-present blotch of black that was the Gallows still stained the image. Anders felt himself frowning despite himself.

Rustling in the tents behind him dragged his thoughts away. He barely turned to inspect the raucous when a familiar head of ebony hair emerged from between the flaps, a fowl look on her face as she threw a string of expletives over her shoulder. The distance sound of laughing echoed from deeper within the tent.

“Fucking pirate,” he heard Hawke mumble under her breath, not nearly as much venom in her tone as she probably thought.

Hawke barely acknowledged him as she stood and stretched, still half in her armour (boots and chest plate still in place, if not slightly crooked). Her hair was hastily tied up on her head in a bun that had come loose in most places and without their usual red stain, her chapped lips looked almost as pale as her eyes. With a yawn, she cracked her back loud enough that he heard it from a few metres away, bleary eyes eventually falling on him where he was huddled by dead coals.

“Wasn’t Varric on watch?” she asked as she gathered up her sword from the ground nearby.

Anders felt himself staring at her, at the crease between her brows and the smudged kohl around her eyes and the way the muscles in her arms went taunt as she hefted her greatsword over her shoulder. “Couldn’t sleep. He didn’t seem to mind me taking over.”

“Nightmares?”

 “Like usual,” he nodded, eyes still tracking her as she collapsed down beside him with a huff. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

Hawke hummed in response. Her attention flickered to his briefly, crease in her brow deepening only slightly, and he wondered absentmindedly what she saw. A haggard abomination, an apostate advocating a lost cause, or just a man? (He hoped it was the latter). He was never sure how her mind worked, or how _she_ worked, for that matter. One minute she was blood-soaked and snarling at whatever poor fool had found himself between her and her blade, the next she was sitting beside him as the colours of the sunrise played across her sharp features with a growing smirk on her face.

“What?” he asked.

The smirk quickly escalated to an incredibly dirty look that made his insides _churn_. “You right there?”

It took him a second to comprehend her words. “Pardon?”

“You’re staring,” she said, ice-coloured eyes meeting his amber ones briefly before falling back to the sword laid out across her lap. A few strands of hair fell to frame her face.

Anders felt himself slowly beginning to turn an interesting shade of crimson. “And if I was?”

 _That_ made her turn her full attention to him, dirty look still in place, as she slowly lowered her sword to the ground before her. He barely noticed the way she twisted to face him bodily. “Pleased with the view then, I presume?”

“Thoroughly,” he smiled.

Something in her gaze softened, but before he could take in the way her face melted into a warm smile, she was crashing her lips to his once, twice, and _Maker_ , Anders couldn’t comprehend anything besides the taste of strawberries and leather that suddenly enveloped him. At some point, he’d discarded his tea in favour of clutching her to him, one hand flat against the small of her back as the other got utterly lost in the mess of black atop her head. Anders could feel her hands on his face, could feel the calloused pads of her skin twisting at his temples and in the loose strands of his own hair, and his crotch burned for her, for Hawke, for _them_.

She tugged away from him briefly, lips swollen red and eyes thick with something Anders hadn’t seen directed at him in an awfully long time. He could feel his own lips throbbing from where her teeth had bit down slightly.

“Hawke,” he rattled out between short breaths.

Her hands slid down his chest until they were tantalisingly close to the hem of his pants, and the way his hips bucked ever so slightly made a smirk tug up the corner of her lips. But as quickly as she had come, Hawke was gone, slowly standing before him with his discarded cup in hand.

“Care for a refill?” she asked, eyes flickering briefly from his eyes to his lips as if he wouldn’t notice.

He returned the gesture, marvelling in the way her lips parted slightly in answer. “Sure.”

Before either of them lost it again she turned and made her way to his pack to retrieve the leaves he kept stashed away, hair jostled slightly in the light breeze that often swept the mountain, and Anders sighed. _Maker, I’m so done for_.


End file.
